Mourning Glory
by LuckyDuck932
Summary: Skips learns that Benson has fallen critcally ill and have very little time left to live. He knows that grief and mourning can be a difficult stone to swallow, for anyone. How will the park s employees take the death of their boss? A Regular Show Collab.
1. Chapter 1

Hurry! The lava's engulfing the whole area!"

"It's spreading fast!"

"Rigby- take my hand!"

"What- no way!"

"Do it now- or you'll die!"

"Waaugh! Oh nooo!"

"RIGBY!"

The raccoon fell backwards into the large pile of crushed autumn leaves, sending a flurry of red and orange bits fluttering into the air.

Mordecai laughed. "You're DEAD, dude," he chuckled. "Why are you laughing?"

Fall leaves of crimson and gold flitted in the cool breeze, the sky was a calm shade of blue-grey.

"We should probably get these leaves cleaned up," insisted Mordecai.

"Yeeeah," agreed Rigby, as he stood up and dusted off the crushed leaves.

The two stared at the mess. What had once been a manageable leaf pile was now a sea of crushed red and yellow flecks embedded in the grass. It would take HOURS to clean up.

"Dang it," Rigby complained. "Why can't there be, like, a vacuum cleaner for leaves?"

"I don't know- but let's get to work," Mordecai declared, stooping down to scoop up an armful of leaves.  
>Rigby filled the plastic trash can with leaves, and suddenly dumped them over the blue jay's head.<p>

"Oh no you didn't!" laughed Mordecai to the impish raccoon, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the leaf pile.

"What the HECK do you two think you're DOING?" suddenly barked Benson.

Mordecai and Rigby turned around, to see their boss glaring at them, fuming. His fists were clenched and trembling, the circles under his eyes seemed darker.

"I TOLD you to pick up these leaves Three HOURS ago!"Benson shouted, his face reddening furiously.

"Now they're shredded- it'll take you even LONGER now! Don't you two have any common sense at ALL?"

"We-we're sorry," Mordecai insisted sheepishly, as he stood up. "We were just kidding around.. we'll get back to-"

"You two'd better clean up this MESS," yelled Benson, "Or You're FIRED!"

He cringed, then grimaced, rubbing his temples. He seemed to be in pain, his face was still red.

"Benson- you okay?" asked Rigby in concern.

"I'm FINE.. YOU TWO are just PISSING ME OFF!" Benson retorted angrily, storming off. Still rubbing his temples, he moaned in pain, muttering and cursing to himself.

"What's with Benson?" Rigby inquired, once their boss was out of earshot. "He's been even more of a basket case lately."

"I think he's kind of sick," Mordecai explained. "He's been getting migraines lately.. I don't think we're making it better."

He resumed picking up the leaves. After a few seconds, Rigby joined him.

In the kitchen, Skips sat at the table, drinking a soda, as Pops whipped up a batch of blueberry muffins.

"Uggh…" Benson grumbled as he entered the kitchen, swaying on his feet slightly.

"Hey- how 'ya doin', Benson?" Skips asked friendlily, as Pops hummed to his iPod.

"Better," muttered the gumball machine, grabbing a soda from the fridge. He sat down at the table and rested his chin on his hand, rubbing his left temple with the other. "The caffeine should help."

As he took a sip, Skips eyed him inquisitively.

"Your face is still pretty red," he acknowledged.

"Yeah- but I was just hollering at Mordecai and Rigby again," Benson pointed out. He sighed. "I'm sure if I had a day to rest it off, I'd be fine."

"Nothing's stopping you from taking a day off," Skips insisted. "I'd cover for you."

"I know," moaned Benson, rolling his eyes in frustration. "But I'd hate to see what would happen if I weren't here to scream at THOSE two." He had another drink of soda, sighing again.

"I feel like you don't trust me," murmured Skips.

Benson smiled weakly. "Of COURSE I trust you," he said. "It's Rigby and Mordecai I don't trust."

"I could keep an eye on them- easy," Skips continued.

The oven dinged.

"Oooh- good show! The muffins are ready!" Pops sang in a sing-song voice, twirling around. He put on a pair of hot pads and opened the oven, taking out a fresh, delectable tin filled with muffins. "Friends- the muffins are ready!"

He grinned and turned around, placing the tin on the table. He pocketed the iPod- a newfangled invention he was quite starting to enjoy.

"Thanks a bunch, Pops," Skips said happily, eyeing the muffins. "They smell great."

"I've been having a bit of trouble smelling, lately," admitted Benson softly.

"Oh, cheer up, you silly platypus- a muffin would certainly put a smile on that grumpy face!" Pops chuckled. Benson winced.

"Easy, Pops- Benson has a headache," pointed out Skips, coming to his friend's aide.

"Oh, dear- you look quite awful!" exclaimed Pops in dismay, upon having a better look at his friend Benson. His face was redder than usual, and the circles under his eyes were indeed darker. Most likely, it was stress, but…

"I'm fine," insisted Benson, backing away slightly. Pops had no inside voice.

"You poor fellow- let me check if you have a fever…" Pops lay the back of his hand on Benson's forehead and cheeks.

"Pops, just let him rest," Skips insisted.

"I'll be okay," Benson said uncomfortably, gently trying to push Pop's hand away.

"Goodness- you're burning up!" Pops declared, recoiling his hand in surprise. "Oh, poor Benson…"  
>"Really, please-" began Benson.<p>

"Don't worry, my friend- I'LL take care of you!" insisted Pops lovingly, wrapping his arms around Benson in a motherly hug.

"Uh…" Benson said softly.

Suddenly, Pops picked Benson up as if he were a large doll, and carried him up the stairs.

"Please, put me down," said Benson irritably, though he didn't feel like protesting and hurting his friend's feelings.

Pops ignored him entirely. "Don't you worry about a single thing, good chum!" he said, as he carried Benson to his room.

"This is really… unnecessary," Benson said sheepishly, while Pops tucked him in and brought him an extra blanket.

"Shhh…" shushed Pops, placing a finger to Benson's lips. He beamed and patted him on the head. "I'll bring you a nice, warm bowl of cream of macaroni soup and a cup of herbal tea, sweet Benson. In the meantime, just close your eyes and rest."

Pops planted a doting kiss on Benson's cheek. Benson's face reddened in mortification as Pops skipped out of the room. The lollipop grinned sweetly, then turned off the light and slowly closed the door.  
>Benson sighed and smiled in disbelief, lightly shaking his head. "Oh, Pops," he muttered, almost laughing to himself. He recalled the time Pops helped a baby bird back into its nest. Pops was treating him just like that pitiful little bird. It was a strange feeling, to be doted over like this.<p>

Dragging each two bags filled with leaves, Mordecai and Rigby trod back to the trash cans, and dropped the bags in.

"I thought we'd NEVER finish before night," Rigby complained, looking up at the sky. The sun had almost set, the sky was a deep blue, fading to a sliver of orange.

Mordecai dusted his feathered hands and smiled. "Wanna heat up that frozen pizza that came in the mail today from those free sample guys?" he asked.

Rigby grinned in anticipation. "Totally!" he agreed.

"Hey- finished with those leaves?" Skips asked walking over to the two.

"Yeah- just finished," Rigby confirmed with a satisfied sigh.

"Benson wanted me to let you know that Pops made muffins- so he's on dish-duty tonight," said Skips.

"You're free for the evening."

"All Right!" cheered Rigby.

"Hey, Skips- how's Benson doing?" asked Mordecai curiously. "He seemed… off. Is he still having those migraines?"

"He's taking a nap right now," Skips informed him. "He's taking it easy for the evening, and Pops and I persuaded him to take the day off tomorrow. It'll do him good- he'll be fine."

"Okay," said Mordecai.

"C'mon! Pizza tiiime!" Rigby insisted, grabbing Mordecai's wrist and running back to the house.  
>"Right behind you, dude," Mordecai confirmed with a smile.<p>

While the rest of their day was consumed by video games and a ten-topping pizza, Skips knocked on Benson's door. There was no answer.

He gently turned the knob and looked inside, to see Benson asleep.

"Hey- Benson," Skips said in a soft tone, patting him on the shoulder. His boss stirred and looked to him.  
>"Is everything taken care of?" he asked, adjusting the ice pack on his aching head.<p>

"Everything's fine- don't worry," insisted Skips, as he felt Benson's neck with the back of his hand. "So how are you feeling?"

"Bad," admitted Benson bitterly. He sighed. "I think the stress is finally getting to me."

"I think it's more than stress," Skips pointed out in fraternal concern. "You've been far more distressed than this- and this has never happened to you before. Have you considered seeing a doctor? I think that would be a good idea."

"They never do anything," Benson explained. "All doctors do is tell you your own symptoms and tell you to sleep it off an drink lots of fluids. I don't need to waste my money."

"If you've been feeling this badly for so many weeks, then a trip to the doctor would be a good idea," insisted Skips.

"It's probably just a flu," said Benson. "If I rest, it'll go away. I haven't been resting. That's why I'm not getting better."

Skips opened his mouth to speak, when there was a knock on the door.

"Benson, dear?" said Pops sweetly. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." Benson replied so flatly that Skips smiled in mild amusement.

Pops stepped into the room, holding a large bouquet of flowers in a lovely glass vase.

"I brought you some beautiful flowers to brighten your room- and your mood!" he declared happily, as he set the vase down on the nightstand.

Benson smiled a tired smile of appreciation.

"Thank you, Pops," he insisted. "I really appreciate all of this."

"Shush now- you rest up and get under those covers, you poor, sick thing!" Pops told him, giving him another kiss on the cheek.

Benson didn't the heart to protest Pop's uncomfortable way of showing him affection during his illness, so he merely blushed silently. Skips chuckled softly, as Pops stepped out of the room again.

"I'll always be close by when you need me!" Pops assured him lovingly, closing the door.

Once the lollipop was out of earshot, Skips laughed

"Ha, ha…" he chuckled. "Has Pops been smoochin' you all day?"

Benson grinned a sheepish little grin. "Yes," he confirmed in embarrassment. "I know he's just trying to be nice, but.. I'm not mean enough to tell him to stop."

He expected Skips to laugh at his chagrin, but he merely smiled.

"For all of his faults, Pops is such a nice person," he noted. "We're lucky to have him around."

"Yeah," Benson agreed with a smile.

Skips stood up. "Let me know if you need anything," Benson's right-hand man said. "I'll help you out in whatever way I can. Sleep well."

"Thank you," said Benson with a nod of appreciation, before Skips left the room. His temples throbbed, and he felt sick to his stomach. Benson grimaced and closed his eyes.

Leftover pizza and blueberry muffins greeted Mordecai and Rigby the following morning. As they sat down at the table and waited for their breakfast to heat up in the microwave, Skips poured himself a cup of coffee, still a bit sluggish just after waking up.

"Bad news- there was a small storm last night. I don't know if you heard it, but the park is covered in leaves again. Benson wants you to rake them up along with the sticks, then mow the grass." Skips stirred his coffee mug with a spoon, walking towards the table for a seat.

Rigby whined and lolled his head back in mock- exasperation. "Awww… man!" he complained. "That'll take us all day!"

"And what are Muscle Man and High-Five Ghost going to be doing?" inquired Mordecai in annoyance.

"Planting apple trees." Skips had a sip of coffee, already waking up for his long day.

"Augh…" Mordecai sighed with a frown. "They always get the fun jobs."

A thought struck him.

"Hey- where IS Benson?" he asked.

"He's-" began Skips.

"Oh, right- you said he was taking the day off," Rigby remembered.

Skips nodded. "Right," he confirmed. "He hasn't really been feeling well lately. So don't screw around too much today. The guy doesn't need any more stress."

Mordecai nodded. "Of course," he agreed.

"Mordecai, Rigby, where do we keep the extra ice packs?" Pops asked loudly, bursting into the room. "The old one had a hole, and was leaking, so I had to throw it out…"

"The back of the refrigerator," Skips told him, pointing. "You can stick it in the freezer for a couple of minutes. That'll get it nice and cold."

"Oh- thank you, Skips," said Pops in appreciation, skipping to the fridge. He knelt down and fished around in the bottom of the refrigerator.

"I wouldn't worry TOO much about Benson," said Skips with a smile. "Pops is taking good care of him."

Rigby gnawed on his muffin in dissatisfaction, then reached his arm around Pops to grab the butter.  
>After breakfast, Rigby and Mordecai stepped outside to see the expansive grass of the park covered in a fresh layer of wet leaves and sticks.<p>

"Augh… this sucks dirt-balls!" Rigby groaned, holding his head back. He reached for a long stick, and swung it around like a sword. "It'll take forever to clean this up!"

"Dude- quit it," Mordecai insisted, taking the stick. "Benson doesn't feel good today- we shouldn't piss him off." He dropped the stick into a large trash bag, then walked over to another.

"But if Benson's sick in bed all day," explained Rigby, "then we can screw around as much as we WANT to. He won't care, because he'll be asleep."

Mordecai smacked him over the head with the little branch.

"Owww!" moaned Rigby, rubbing his head. "What was that for?"

"Ugh… you're so immature," Mordecai sighed as he rolled his eyes. "The sooner we finish what Benson wants us to do, the sooner we can do what we want to do."

He continued dropping sticks and branches into the trash bag. Disgruntled, Rigby raked the leaves and picked them up in armfuls, dropping them into the grey plastic trash bun he dragged behind.

"He doesn't seem to be feeling any better," Pops sighed, as Skips approached him at the door. "Tsk, tsk… I'm not quite sure what to DO."

Pops walked around Skips out of Benson's room.

"I'll be in the kitchen."

Skips stepped into the room, to see Benson resting in bed, staring at a spot on the ceiling, either in thought or in a daze.

"Hey- Mordecai and Rigby are taking care of the lawn, and I have Muscle Man and High-Five ghost at work on those trees," Skips told his friend, sitting at his bedside.

Benson smiled weakly. "Thank you," he said in a soft voice. His smile grew a little. "I knew I could count on you to keep things in shape."

"How 'ya feelin'?" asked Skips, examining Benson for a moment.

The gumball machine sighed. "Pretty terrible," he admitted with a shrug. "You know, I think it WOULD be a good idea, going to the doctor. I don't get sick very often, so it's been a while, anyway…"  
>"I'll schedule an appointment," offered Skips as he stood up to go to the phone. "Take it easy, 'kay?"<br>Benson nodded tiredly, then rolled over, drawing the covers up to his chin. "Thanks, Skips." His head ached terribly.

"Anything else you need, let me know," Skips assured him with a smile, closing the door.  
>With a pained sigh, Benson closed his eyes. It felt as if his temples were in an invisible vice-grip.<br>"Hello!" Pops said cheerfully as Skips walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Pops," replied Skips in a pleasant tone. Pops was whipping up another bowl of soup for Benson. Though naïve and unknowledgeable in most aspects of his life, Pops was one of the most unconditionally kind people Skips had ever met. His enthusiasm for doing good, while expecting nothing in return, never ceased to impress him.

Humming to himself, Pops placed the steaming bowl on a large saucer, also balancing a cup of tea. "Good-bye!" he said to Skips as he left.

Skips smiled, and picked up the phone, scanning the phonebook.

Benson squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

"Aaaugh…" he cringed, clenching his hands around his head. The pain was so terrible ne felt like vomiting. He ground his teeth, tear stinging at his eyes. Benson let out a brief cry of pain, before everything went black.

"So tomorrow, two o'clock?" Skips said into the phone. He nodded. "Okay. See you then. Thanks, Doc. Bye."

He hung up the phone, and turned around to set the phone book back on the table.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, and turned around.

"Skips!" cried Pops, shaking Skips by the shoulders desperately. "Something is terribly wrong with Benson!"

"Calm down, Pops," Skips insisted gently, as he put his hand on Pop's arm. "What's the problem?"

"Come, quick" Pops begged, dragging him up the stairs by his hand. "I came in to give him his lunch, but he wouldn't wake up!"

Skips's eyes widened in concern.

As they neared Benson's door, Pops rushed in to his friend's side, taking his hand.

"Benson, please wake up!" the lollipop pleaded, caressing Benson's hand frantically. "You're frightening me!"

Pops sounded as if he were going to start crying any second. Skips checked Benson for a pulse, and held his hand in front of his nose.

"He has a pulse, and he's breathing," he confirmed, relieved but still alarmed.

"Oh- what should we do?" wailed Pops, burying his face into Benson's hand. "Will he be all right?"  
>"We have to get him to the hospital," Skips insisted.<p>

He effortlessly scooped up Benson's thin frame in his arms, and carried him out of the room. Pops followed closely, nervously wringing his hands and whimpering softly.

"There's no need to panic," said Skips. "He'll be fine. Why don't you stay here? I'll let you know what happens soon."

"I want to go with Benson!" insisted Pops. "I want to be here for him when he wakes up."

It was a sweet thought, but Skips figured that Pop's boisterous presence would be a bit too much for Benson after being unconscious for a while.

"Benson wouldn't want you getting worked up," Skips persuaded his friend, as he rushed outside.  
>"Macaroni-" Rigby sang.<p>

"I swear; if you sing ANY more of that song-" began Mordecai, before he saw Skips out of the corner of his eye. He and Rigby turned to look, to see Skips laying Benson down on the seat of his car.

"Can you do Benson a favor and calm down?" Skips told Pops, who whimpered and nodded reluctantly.

"Hey- Skips!" Rigby called out, as he and Mordecai ran towards the car. "What's going on?"

"Benson fainted," said Skips, getting into the car. "I'm taking him to the hospital."

"Oh. Go-" began Mordecai.

"Don't screw around while we're gone," Skips warned the two, as he turned the key hurriedly. "This could be serious."

He drove off, leaving a stunned Mordecai and Rigby watching the car shrink into the distance.

"Oh, man," Rigby said softly.

Pops let out a high-pitched whimper.

Mordecai turned around, to see Pops staring wide-eyed at the spot once occupied by Skips's car, his shoulders raised anxiously, his hands clasped together in worry. Pops suddenly buried his face into his hands and began to weep.

"Pops? What's wrong?" Mordecai asked, patting his friend on the back.

"I'm worried about Benson!" Pops insisted despondently.

"I am, too," sighed Mordecai, closing his eyes.

Rigby stared out at the road with a mortified expression.

Something else entirely was on his mind.

Slumped over in a chair nearby, Skips snored- exhausted and distressed as Benson lay in the hospital bed, still unresponsive.

Gradually, he faded to consciousness, and his eyes twitched with this sudden awareness. Benson slowly opened his eyes, to be greeted by soft, white room. His eyes widened in surprise, having no idea where he was, and he cringed. It still hurt to look at anything.

After a few seconds, he looked around, to see that he was in a hospital room. His eyebrows furrowed together anxiously, but he relaxed when he saw Skips at his bedside.

"Hey… Skips," Benson said softly, nudging his friend awake. He tried not to sound alarmed. "What happened?"

"Hmm?" Skips snorted, starting awake. He looked at Benson, and smiled in relief. "You're finally awake. You gave me quite a scare, Benson."

"What happened?" asked Benson again, sounding a bit irritated, mostly to conceal his worry.  
>"I don't know," explained Skips, as he fluffed Benson's pillow for him. "Pops went upstairs to bring you lunch, but you were unconscious. Do you remember what happened?"<p>

Benson fidgeted with the blanket pensively. "I think … I think I blacked out," he admitted. "My head was hurting so badly… then I couldn't see. I thought I fell asleep."

Skips shook his head. "You were out for three days," he pointed out. He regarded his friend with concern. "They still don't know what the problem is. I-"

"You were here the whole time?" Benson asked in surprise, his eyes widening slightly. He was touched.  
>The circles under Skips's eyes said it all. He smiled sleepily, patting his friend on the shoulder.<p>

"Oh- Benson, you're awake," said a tall, dark-skinned doctor who stepped into the room. He smiled. "I'm Doctor Robin. I have the results of the tests-"

"Skips?" Benson interrupted, looking at his friend. "I think I want to be alone when I hear this. Whatever it is, I'd rather tell you myself."

Skips nodded in understanding, and stood up to leave. As he shut the door behind him, Doctor Robin sat by Benson's bed, looking down at his clipboard thoughtfully.

"So what's the problem?" asked Benson nervously. "Is it a brain tumor?" He asked this half-jokingly, as his head throbbed for a moment.

The doctor looked up, slightly surprised, but resumed his calm countenance within half a second. "Yes," he replied.

Benson's face flushed, and for a brief moment, terror gripped at his insides. But he laughed, surprised that s doctor would even joke about that.

"Oh- man," he chuckled. "I didn't think real doctors actually did that. That is…"

He trailed off, seeing the doctor's facial expression unchanged.

"Benson," Doctor Robin said softly, glancing down at his clipboard. "A large tumor was found in your brain, and it's already spreading to your lymph nodes."

He showed Benson an X-ray, revealing the growth. The gumball machine was dumbfounded.

"I…" he said in a quiet voice. This had to be a continuation of the prank. But he knew it wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Benson," said Doctor Robin, looking equally forlorn. "Once the cancer has established itself in the lymph nodes, there's very little chance of recovery. The cancer is in such an advanced state that treatment would be ineffective."

"So…" Benson began softly, glancing down at his hands. "How long do I have, to live?"

"At the most," Doctor Robin informed him, "about a month. A more realistic expectation, however, would be about two weeks."

Benson felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Remember- please don't tell anybody."

The following day, Skips drove Benson back home.

Skips nodded gravely. "I understand," he insisted.

Benson made it clear that Skips was the only person he wanted to know about his illness. Having little time left, Benson intended to spend it as he always had. The idea of being treated as a sick man in his final days repulsed him.

"Thank you," Benson said gratefully.

He glanced out the window. Of course he and Skips had cried upon learning the news, but for the most part, they were mutually level-headed.

They knew that they couldn't say the same about their other friends.

"Mordecai, Rigby- look!" Pops declared happily, pointing at Skips's car. "Benson's back!"

Muscle-Man and High-Five ghost overheard, and they all ran towards the car.

Skips got out and opened the door for Benson, who was still weak.

"Benson- you were in the hospital for FOUR days!" Muscle Man said in shock, grinning at the return of his friend. "How 'ya feelin', bro?"

"Fine- still tired, though," Benson lied, stepping out of the car. He saw the concern on everyone's faces, and he smiled. He knew that lying was the best option.

"So what's the matter, Benson?" Mordecai inquired as he smiled nervously. "Skips told us you passed out."

"Just a case of fatigue- I've been working too hard," said Benson, grinning. He put his hands on his hips. "The doctor says all I need to do is take it easy for a little while- I'll be fine."

"Oh- I'm so happy you're all right!" Pops bleated, as he wrapped his arms around Benson in a loving embrace. He lifted Benson off the ground and twirled around, hugging him tightly and rocking him back and forth.

Benson's first instinct was to tell Pops to put him down. But that was the old Benson- the one who wasn't sick.

He smiled gratefully, hugging his friend back.

"It's good to see you, too, Pops," he replied, blushing slightly.

The others laughed, and Skips smiled uneasily.

How could he keep such a heavy secret concealed?

A long line of fresh patches of soil would grow into apple trees in the future.

In the meantime, it was the job of the groundskeepers to tend to them.

"Well, at least this has to be easier than Muscle Man and High-Five Ghost's job," Rigby said, nearly smiling as he saw the two carrying several trash bags of branches and sticks to the curb.

"Na-ha, ha…" Mordecai chuckled mock-teasingly.

He and Rigby watered all of the trees meticulously. They each had to have a specific amount of water- or else they would never grow.

"… lazing on a Sunday afternoon!" Pops sang loudly. Because he had been doing most of the cooking recently, he was on dish duty. This didn't seem to bother him in the least- as long as he was allowed to sing as he did his job. His voice was carried by the wind over to Mordecai and Rigby.

Rigby twitched. He glanced up at the sky, bored by the monotony of his task, and smiled as he saw a cloud.

"Heh heh," he laughed.

"What?" asked Mordecai with a smile.

"Look-" Rigby said, pointing to the cloud. "What's that cloud look like to you?"

"Which one?" Mordecai inquired, as he stood next to Rigby.

"That one- look," repeated Rigby. He pointed at the cloud again.

The cloud was shaped like a large rear end.

Mordecai chuckled- Rigby laughed loudly.

"Mother Nature's a perv," the raccoon chuckled, continuing his task of watering the trees.  
>"No- YOU'RE a perv!" Mordecai teased him. "If you actually noticed that…"<p>

"How could YOU not notice a GIANT BUTT floating over us?" laughed Rigby.

"Hey, guys," Benson interjected, approaching the two.

They turned around and blushed- having had their boss heard this interesting bit of conversation totally out of context.

"Oh.. hey, Benson," Mordecai said with a nervous little wave. "We were working.."  
>Rigby turned around and continued watering the trees.<p>

Benson, wearing a pair of sunglasses to protect his tired eyes, smiled.

"I know," he pointed out. "Keep up the good work, you two."

He turned around and walked away.

"Dude… is it just me, or has Benson been being a lot nicer lately?" Rigby asked in wonder.

Mordecai shrugged. "We haven't been slacking off as much," he explained. "Remember when he got sick a few days ago? We stopped screwing around then. He's still tired, so we really shouldn't be pissing him off, anyway."

Rigby nodded. "Hmm," he said. He watered an apple tree. "Hey, Mordecai?"

"Yeah?" said the blue jay, a bit surprised to hear his friend suddenly sounding serious.

"When Benson passed out… I was really scared that it was or fault.. I mean, my fault," Rigby admitted.  
>"What do you mean?" Mordecai said, looking at Rigby.<p>

"I mean, we're always stressing him out," explained Rigby anxiously. "Sometimes when he's screaming at us, I'm worried he'll burst a blood vessel or something."

"Dude- it's okay," insisted Mordecai gently. "Benson's just high-strung. That isn't our fault. That's just Benson being Benson."

"How are those bags coming along?" Benson asked Muscle-Man and High-Five Ghost, who panted slightly after leaving a large bin of branches by the curb.

"Almost done," Muscle-Man confirmed, resting his hand on the lid of the trash can. High-Five Ghost nodded.

"Good," said Benson with a little nod.

"How you doin', bro?" asked Muscle-Man in concern.

"All right," Benson admitted softly, with a shrug. "Still tired, though. But Skips doesn't need to cover for me as much anymore."

Muscle-Man nodded. "Take it easy, Bro," he insisted friendlily.

"Take care of yourself," High-Five Ghost said, nearly inaudible. He patted Benson on the shoulder.  
>Benson smiled. "Thanks, guys," he insisted. "You're really making my job easier. Thanks for being consistent."<p>

"Speaking of "consistent," what's with Rigby and Mordecai?" Muscle-Man asked, looking to where the blue jay and raccoon were working. Unusually, there was near-silence.

Benson smiled a little wider. "They were probably scared after I got sick," he explained. "Tsk, tsk… to think, that THAT would be the only thing to motivate them into actually working without screwing around."

Muscle-Man chuckled. "Think they'll just start slacking off as soon as you're well again?" he asked.

"Totally," Benson confirmed.

High-Five Ghost and Muscle-Man laughed loudly, Benson chuckled weakly.

"Having fun?" Skips asked jokingly, as Pops dried the dished and put them away.

"Oh- yes!" Pops bleated, cheerful as ever.

Skips smiled. Things almost felt normal around Pops…

He and Benson never spoke of his illness. And Skips knew he had to just let this knowledge fester inside of him.

"How are you, my friend?" asked Pops, who put away a stack of plates.

"Fine," said Skips softly.

He was dying.

Pops hummed chipperly to himself as he blotted the water off of a bowl with a pink hand towel.  
>"How's Benson?" Pops inquired. He turned to Skips and smiled. "He seems to be feeling much better- I don't see him quite as often anymore."<p>

Skips cringed inside.

"He's fine," he forced himself to say.

Benson was dying.

Muscle-Man exchanged a suspicious glance with High-Five Ghost as their boss walked away.  
>"Something weird's going on, Bro," he murmured.<p>

"What do you mean?" the ghost asked in his tiny little voice.

"Benson's… I don't even know how to say it. Something's different about him," Muscle-Man said. "Doesn't something seem "off" to you, Bro?"

The ghost shook his head- confirming "no." "He's been sick…"

"And Mordecai and Rigby… it's like they've been replaced," noted Muscle-Man, as he watched the two actually getting their work done.

"They're just worried about Benson," High-Five murmured.

Muscle-Man looked at Five, then over to Skips, who stood by the back door, looking up at the sky.  
>"And Muscle-Man's been acting weird, too," he noticed. "He's quieter than usual. Haven't you noticed?"<br>The little ghost shook his head.

"Hmmm…" said Muscle-Man, touching his chin. "I'll get to the bottom of it."

"Turning in early?" asked Skips to Benson, who walked up the stairs, trailing his hand limply over the banister.

"Mmm hmm," the gumball machine confirmed with a tired nod.

Skips walked him up and fluffed his pillow.

"Thanks," Benson said gratefully.

It was tough for the both of them, pretending to be strong.

"Do you need anything?" Skips asked with a gentle smile.

Benson shook his head. He was clearly in pain, and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

It occurred to Skips that, any night soon, Benson wouldn't wake up again.

"Good night," he said, gently patting Benson's hand.

"Good night, Skips," Benson replied. He closed his eyes, and Skips looked at him one last time before closing the door.

Skips retreated to his room and sat on his bed, burying his face into his hands.

There was a knock on the door.

Skips uncovered his face.

"Come in," he said.

The door creaked open, and Muscle-Man stepped inside, High-Five Ghost floating alongside him.  
>"Can I talk to yo, Bro?" asked Muscle-Man, in a hushed voice.<p>

"Sure," Skips said with a nod.

Muscle-Man sat down on the bed next to Skips.

He glared at him.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" said Skips.

"Don't play dumb, bro," insisted Muscle-Man. "We know something's up… you're all acting weird. You've been so quiet lately. Just tell me what's up."

"Nothing's going on- I don't know what you're talking about," Skips insisted bitterly.

"Bro- we both know you're lying," Muscle-Man said angrily, trying to keep his voice down. "If it's a secret, you can trust us."

"Please tell us," High-Five Ghost said softly.

Skips sighed. His heart leapt slightly- he was eager to share the burden of knowing about Benson's illness, but… would he really betray his friend?

"I was told to keep a secret," Skips admitted in a grudging manner.

"You can trust us," pleaded High-Five Ghost in his little voice. "Please…"

Skips let out a heavy sigh. "I was told VERY specifically not to tell anybody," he said, shaking his head. "But… but I just can't keep this a secret anymore. Benson's really sick, guys. He has cancer. He could die any day now. It's that bad. But he doesn't want anyone to know."

He stared down at the floor on a numb daze. Muscle-Man were wide-eyed in shock.

Muscle-Man tried to speak, but no sound would emerge.

"Oh my Goodness!" High-Five Ghost whimpered softly, clinging to Muscle-Man's chest for comfort. He was hugged, and Muscle-Man began to cry silently. In the darkness, Skips allowed himself to do the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2 of 3 of my Regular Show collab with a friend. I`m writing the last two parts, but I`m going to be really bust these next couple of weeks and have been writer`s block ridden so it might be a while before I finish it. But I thought you guys have waited far too long for another installment for this and I decided to change this to a three-part-er for ya. Enjoy and be sure to leave a review. **

Skips looked up to the sky while standing outside before the house, observing the calm weather as the gusty October wind pushed clouds overhead in the blue-grey sky. The sun was dipping behind the row of tress on the far edge of the park; it must have been about six-ish. He was off work now, but there was a lot more to do now that Benson was ill. Out of friendship, Skip took over some of Benson`s chores and let him rest.

"You don`t need to do that, Skips," Benson had told him just yesterday when Skips had offered.

"It`s all I can," was what Skips replied. "I insist."

Thank goodness that Muscle Man and High Five had offer pitched in with the extra work, because Skips would have been working until long after nightfall every day.

He expelled air that swirled out in a puff. It had been two weeks since he had learned of Benson`s cancer, which was what the doctor had given them as a realistic expectation of his time left. He probably didn`t have much longer, too- he was looking thinner and paler as the days went on. Time was ticking and death was become tangible; it was right before them. And when that time went out, were would Skips be? What was he going to say to everyone else?

At the near-by kid`s park, Pop was swinging, pumping his leg furiously as he reached towards the sky. The lollipop was giddily laughing, getting so much enjoyment from this fall day.

Who Skips worried about the most to what would become of him after Benson`s passing was Pops. The lollipop had taken pleasure in caring for Benson now, unbeknownst to him that it wasn`t something that could be cured and would lead to the death of the gumball machine.

Muscle Man and High Five hadn`t taken it well at first, either. But, the reality had sunken in fast, and, knowing what little time there was left for their boss, stood by Skips and one another to comfort each other. Which was good, because the rest of the park`s employees were oblivious to it. Muscle Man somehow maintained a more upbeat demeanor despite it all; but, hey, the guy was happy-go-lucky. Skips on the other hand- it hurt; he wasn`t going to lie. Especially when he saw how innocent Pops was and how Benson`s health was so quickly deteriorating.

Funny, despite his declining health, Benson was keeping cool and calm for the sake of his employees. A bit calmer, and he was a bit more reserved as he didn`t want to waste what little energy and time he had left in him. He wasn`t yelling at Moredcai and Rigby, that was for sure. (Part of this was that Skips had promised him that he would keep the two in line during Benson`s final days and after.)

Which brought Skips back to the duo. It didn`t seem like they had suspected _anything_ about their boss. Too wrapped up in their video games or whatever they did with their spare time, he guessed. Or… maybe they did and didn`t say anything about it.

Skips heaved another sigh and then decided to take a walk around the park to clear his thoughts. He was out for an half an hour. When he had completed his walk, he headed back to the house, where he was greeted by the wafting smell of chicken noodle soup on the stove-top and Pops standing in the kitchen, frilly blue apron tied around his waist, standing over the pot, stirring. Moredcai and Rigby sat at the kitchen table, chuckling over some a magazine they had bought in town while they went out for garbage bags for the park.

"Oh hello Skips!" Pops greeted cheerily, looking up at the albino gorilla. "Looks like you`re just in time for some home-made soup!"

"Thanks, Pops," Skips said, smiling as he shut the door and the chill behind him. He unraveled the striped scarf he wore around his neck and hanging it on a hook by the door.

"I made it especially for dear Benson," Pop explained, and then his tone grew a bit somberly. "I`m afraid no matter what I do, he`s still under the weather. The changing of the seasons certainly is not aiding him in getting well."

Skips didn`t reply, opting to let the lollipop believe what their boss had was a curable seasonal ailment. Instead, he crossed the threshold into the kitchen and pulled up a seat at the kitchen table and sat down, easing his work-tense body.

He turned to Rigby, asking "Did you get all the leaves collected today?" Last night, there had been a big thunder-storm and it had rattled the leaves from the trees, leaving most of the trees in their park near-naked. On top of the increase of leaves, there had been a rain that had soaked them. Skips knew very well that the duo hated raking in general- but when the whole world was moist and heavy with after-rain humidity, they slaked off all the more.

"Yeah, man, we did" Moredcai told him nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up at him from the magazine spread before him.

Just then, Pops twirled through the kitchen, with a bowl of soup in hand, and set it down daintily before Skips, the steam and broth smell fanning from the bowl, warming up Skip`s chilled face from its steam.

Skips thanked Pops, who handed him a spoon.

Pops then went to look in the cabinets for a tray and set it on the kitchen counter. He grabbed another bowl, set it onto the tray, and ladled a generous amount inside it. "I`m going to bring this up to poor Benson-"

"No need to, Pops." It was at this moment that Skips saw that his dying boss was standing in the doorframe. He looked exhausted, his eyes draw but never the less a thin smile at the corner of his mouth. "I`m right here."

"Oh Benson!" Pops exclaimed, surprised to see the gumball machine out of bed; Benson had taken a liking to heading up to his bedroom earlier now. "You sure you don`t want to eat it up in your room, where you can rest."

"I`m good, Pops," Benson told him, giving a gentle wave of his hand to say he was alright. "I can eat down here." He took the ball from the lollipop from where it was sitting on the counter on top of the tray. He carried it back to the table and sat down at a spot next to Skips, and directly across from Mordecai and Rigby.

He hadn`t even taken a spoonful of soup before he asked, "Did you guys get those leaves picked up."

Rigby groaned. "Yes, Benson, we did." His tone was audibly displeased as he grumbled to himself and turned his attention back to the magazine sitting in front of him.

One would think they would notice _something_ different about Benson. Pops did. But no, the duo didn`t seem to suspect a thing about the ever-dipping decline in the health of their boss. It was if, they were blind to it or something, despite Benson sleeping all the time and getting thinner and paler with each passing day. Or, if they did notice anything, it might have not caused terribly much concern for them, seeing it as perhaps a flu or a really bad bug. But yet, they hadn`t said anything, so Skips wasn`t positive about how blind the blue-jay and the raccoon were. Well, at the rate the cancer was consuming , it wouldn`t be much long until reality hit them. . .

Skips didn`t want to think about it. He really didn`t want to think about the death of one of his best-friends anymore. Benson had so little time left in this world, and it would be better if Skips focused on the bright side… okay, so there wasn`t a bright side to cancer, but he had to enjoy the remaining time with his friend before it was too late and not let the death constantly dwell on him so he couldn`t focus on the limited time. Benson`s death was going to be inevitable, but it didn`t need to poison his thoughts all the time.

At that moment, Muscle Man and High-Five Ghost walked in the house. The wind behind them moaned as it rushed to get inside the home, before being quickly got snapped off by Muscle Man slamming the door shut behind him and locking it.

"You could like, freeze anything out there at night," High Five Ghost commented, his tone a quiet, winded mutter.

Muscle Man shrugged off his leather fighter jacket he wore and threw it onto the hook besides the door before helping High-Five Ghost take off the glove he wore on top of his hand. Besides the weather, Muscle Man seemed to be in good-spirits because not a second later he began with his usual remark, "You know who _else_ freezes anything at night?"

"Do you really have to make a 'My Mom' joke out of every sentence?" Mordecai asked, groaning at his co-workers terrible jokes.

But the comment really didn`t faze Muscle Man in the slightest, and after a brief moment, that puckish smile crept up again as he asked, "You know who _else _makes 'My Mom' jokes out every sentence?"

Mordecai groaned and held his forehead in his hand.

"Oh, Muscle Man, High-Five Ghost, do have a bit of soup. It will warm you two up in a jiffy," Pops told the two as he himself grabbed a bowl of his own soup and took a sit next to Benson at the table. "And I do believe we have some of those wonderful little packets of powder that make hot chocolate left in the cabinet."

"Alright!" Muscle Man and the ghost high-fived each other as they rushed over to the cabinets to go claim the Swiss-Miss packets of powdered hot coco before anyone else could.

Benson, who had been quietly mulling over his soup, finally spoke up. " Hey guys, could you gather around for a minute? I have an announcement to make."

Skips drew in a breath. Was Benson _finally_ coming clean about the cancer to the rest of his employees, perhaps because he was so close to his death? Of course, if he had wanted to tell them about it, he would have said it earlier, when he had first found out about it no less than two weeks ago.

Although what the gumball machine said was not about cancer, what he did say took Skips by surprise.

"You guys have really been working hard this week," Benson started. "And, I think it`s time we take a break. So, Saturday we`ll be closing the park a little earlier and heading on out to go camping up in the mountains."

Camping in October- Skips knew that the weather was inching and bordering on winter more and more with each passing day, but he also knew that because of the weather, this might keep away a lot of other campers and it would be peaceful for them to be up almost all by themselves.

"It`s gonna freezing, dude," Rigby said, crossing his arms in protest. From what Skips had heard of, his last camping trip with Moredcai, and two girls they invited, Margret and Eileen he remembered their names were. They had apparently gotten caught in an awful rain-storm and a lot of the trip had been an absolute nightmare.

"Yeah, so?" Benson retorted and then advised the raccoon, "Pack a lot of sweatshirts and layers and you`ll be fine."

Skips could he Rigby mumble something with a bit of an attitude about being in the cold. Instead of barking back at him with "What did you say?",

"Well, I think camping shall be a marvelous adventure!" Pops exclaimed, ever optimistic. It didn`t really matter what they were doing, but Pops always looked on the bright side of it with that child-like innocence he possessed. "There is nothing quite like the great outdoors, Rigby. Oh, it shall be lovely to be in nature!"

Skips didn`t say anything, but instead decided to finish his soup. When he was done, he put the bowl in the sink, making a mental note to clean it later, and headed up the stairwell to go take a shower. His little shack out in the park that he called had a toilet and sink installed, but no shower. So, he had to resort to using the shower inside the house.

Taking a shower would have duel purposes- to clean himself up after a long, hard day of work and to also clear his thought about everything. While he washed himself, he tried to let the tension in his muscles go lax, taking in the hot water pounding against him`s soothing affect on his body.

When he was done both showering and drying himself, Skips recycled the pair of jeans and boxers he wore. He then exited the bathroom to find that Benson was coming down the hall, looking a bit pensive.

"Benson!" Skips called, instantly making the gumball machine alert.

Benson walked up to the albino gorilla and said, "Hey, Skips. I was just heading up to start packing for the camping trip; it`s only a couple of days away. . ."

"What`s it really about?" Skips asked, all of a sudden. This whole camping trip felt so impromptu and so sudden- it basically took the carpet right under their feet and it might be a little difficult to arrange it with their schedule. How Benson managed to get the park to close a little earlier in itself was a miracle.

"I`m dying, Skips," Benson said, frankly. His voice was nothing if not a dull, hushed whisper as if he didn`t want anyone to be able to hear it. He gave a weighted sigh. "And- I feel like it`s my time is coming. I want to spend what little time I have left with my employees and have one last good time for them to remember me by. That`s what this trip is about."

It was then when Skips got a good look at his boss- weak, tired, and thin and it was evident there wasn`t very much time at all before the cancer took Benson.

Despite it, Benson gave a small, feeble smile as he gently said, "Be sure to pack a lot of sweat-shirts. It`s going to be cold up in the mountains."

And with that, the gumball walked back to his room at the end of the hall, leaving Skips to himself.

Saturday at a little before four found the park`s employees toting duffle-bags to the back of a van. Skips packed them in as each employee handed him a bag, next to the sleeping-bags, pillows, bundled tents, lawn-chairs and boxes of food and necessities.

Benson carried a box that contained marshmallows and graham crackers. He planned on making a fire and having the employee roast smores around it. It made him feel nostalgic as he remembered all the times he had gone camping with friends and similarly crafting the camping delicacy. Back then, of course, he thought he would have a lot more time to make more smores, have more camp-outs.

He had said when he was a college student, that for a last vacation he would opt to go camping. Nothing fancy or lavish- Benson just liked camping and nature. His love for nature played a significant part in why he decided to become a park director. Now, nearly ten-years after that fire-side confession, Benson found that it was indeed time for that last vacation and his opinion from his college years hadn`t wavered in the slightest. He wanted to spend his final days with his friends and employee up in the wilderness.

"Hey, Skips," he called out, heading down the stairs of the house with the box in his arms. "Are we almost packed up?"

Skips pulled himself out from his spot crouching in the van to shove Muscle Man`s duffle in next to High Five Ghost`s. "Yep. We`re just waiting on Mordecai and Rigby to get there stuff and Pops using the bathroom and then we can leave."

No sooner than he said this, Mordecai and Rigby came out of the house with their respective bags, both of them huddled in thick sweatshirts, as Benson had advised they wear.

"We`re here!" Mordecai exclaimed as he and Rigby bonded down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"We didn`t leave yet," Benson told them, with a small laugh. "Here, let me take your bags-"

"I`ve got it Benson," Skips interjected, going up to the duo of the raccoon and blue-jay and taking their duffels.

Benson had noticed that Skips had been taking on the much laborious things for him- the more physically demanding chores he had to do around the park. He knew very well it was his friend just simply extending a hand and to help Benson retain what little energy he had left. And besides, when he passed on, it would be Skips who would take on those jobs Benson had left behind.

He was extremely grateful for it. He knew he was in a very-late stage of cancer, where there was nothing the doctors could do for him. Not even sooth his pain. His headaches- scratch that, migraines- that were onset because of the tumor were ones that no amount of ibuprofen or tea could fix. Facing them daily was exhausting and he was already overwhelmed. Skips taking over a lot of the difficult work and insisting that he rest was just what Benson needed.

Not only that, but with the extra time and rest he had, he was starting to get his affairs in order. He was so young- a little over thirty. He wasn`t married, he didn`t have any children, so he hadn`t really thought of writing a will and dividing up what he had. That had never been a big concern for him. Until now, of course.

So, when he had time and the energy to seriously think, he would sit at his desk and compose letters to those he was leaving behind, settle what was going to who, and arrange what he wanted done about his funeral. It sure depressed the heck out of him, but in the end he knew those letter and arrangements would be invaluable. When the cancer finally took him, he didn`t want his friends to guess about anything dealing with him.

Pops emerging from the house broke Benson from his thoughts. The lollipop came practically sprinting down the stairs of the house, baring what looked like a guitar-case in his hands. "I am ready, dear friends! And I brought my guitar with me!"

"Great," Bensons said with a smile. "We can get this show on the road then." He went up the stairs and locked the front door with the key and then returned back to the van, which Skips was just shutting up after throwing in Pop`s last-minute instrument into on top of the sleeping bags.

"We`ll all ready to go, then," Skips assured him, walking around the van and up to the driver`s seat, where he got in. Benson followed suit by taking the driver`s seat. Rigby, Mordecai, Muscle-Man, High Five Ghost hopped in to the van`s back, one-by-one. Muscle Man and High Five occupied the very back row of seats while Moredcai and Rigby opted to take the front row.

Benson had printed out directions to the camp-site from online and was sitting in the passenger to take the role as navigator, instructing Skips on which turn to take or where to go at the fork in the road.

Soon, they were out of town and the area around them was steadily growing more rural and less ruled by buildings but rather trees. The land were merging into huge tracts of farm-land.

Rigby looked out the window, pressing his hands against it. "Dude, all there is around here is sheep." He looked to Benson sitting in the passenger seat. "You sure you know where we`re going?"

"Trust me, Mordecai," Benson assured. "I know exactly where we`re going and it won`t much longer until we get there."

"I hope so," Rigby commented. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Dude, did you go before we left?" Mordecai asked the raccoon. Going to the restroom before they left was Benson`s advice, and as usual Rigby didn`t follow it.

"I didn`t have to then!" Rigby insisted.

Normally, Benson would have nagged the raccoon about not taking advantage of the home bathroom, lecturing him about listening, and Rigby would let it go through one ear and out the other. But, because Benson wasn`t the same as he was two week prior, he looked to Skips at the driver`s wheel and said, with a sigh, "Pull over to the next gas-station, then."

As luck would have it, there happened to be a gas-station, small and perhaps a bit seedy-looking, but still with a functional restroom none the less. Moredcai accompanied Rigby into the little store while the raccoon made a bee-line through the store`s many candy-aisle towards the restroom. While he was in there, Moredcai went to the magazine rack and thumbed through it.

When the raccoon emerged out to the bathroom, he went over to his friend, currently looking through a monster-truck magazine. Out of the blue, Rigby asked his friend, "Is there something different about Benson to you?"

"Yeah," Mordecai agreed. "He`s been totally nice to us ever since he came back from the hospital. Like, he would have never pulled over like that before."

"Do you think that going to the hospital and passing out made him a lot easier on us?" Rigby asked.

"I dunno. Do you think he`s been sick and doesn`t really have the energy to nag us anymore?" was Mordecai`s response. Although his own question didn`t really answer Rigby`s.

"I dunno, dude, but I`m glad he`s not yelling at us anymore," Rigby confessed with a nonchalant shrug.

Mordecai looked over his shoulder to the candy isle. "I have money, so I`m going to go get a pack of gum. You want something?"

"Just some of that gum you`re buying," Rigby told his friend, shrugging as the blue-jay looked over the good dozen choices he had for the gum, but then deciding with a packet of winter-green flavored that happened to be the cheapest.

Mordecai brought it up to the cashier and paid his dollar twenty-five for the pack of bubble gum and that was that. The minimal conversation they had about their boss was short and only expressed their relief that Benson had eased up on them so significantly during the last couple of weeks. No real concern that there could be something more seriously wrong with him that resulted into the sudden change of their boss`s behavior and attitude to them.

After the quick stop at the gas-station, the ride up to the camp-site in the mountains was relatively quick- about a half hour away, though filled with twist and turns in the road as they starting going up the hills and getting closer to the campsite. When they finally arrived, got pass the guard in the cabin at the front gates, drove through winding road that snaked through rich, autumn-hued foliage and forestry, they finally came to their camping spot over by a bountiful lake. Benson would have loved if it was fishing-season, then they could rent a boat and go out on it, but with what little, precious time he had, he knew he shouldn`t have been mourning over what-ifs and could-have-possibly-beens. He should enjoy what he had- right here, right now before it was gone. Besides, the sheer view of the lake was nice enough to satisfy him.

They all got out of the van, eager to stretch their legs after a long car-ride; it felt nice to be back on the ground. But, by then, it was getting late and they needed to set up camp fast.

"Alright you guys, I need you to get to work right now," Benson said. Even dying, he had the urge to be the leader, the boss as he was. "Skips, can you start the fire?"

The gorilla grunted, nodding in affirmation.

"Muscle Man and High Five Ghost, you can help me set up the tents," Benson told the pair, but then turned to the raccoon and the blue-jay. "Mordecai and Rigby, can I trust you two to go get sticks and kindle for the fire?"

"Sure, Benson," Moredcai assured him. That was the easiest job ever, they had both decided and it would be a total breeze. And with that, he and the raccoon started to look around for the kindle they needed.

"And don`t get lost, you two!" The gumball machine called after them as they ventured into the woods to go look for the requested wood and twigs.

Soon, with the aid of Skips, Muscle Man, and High Five Ghost, Benson had the camp set up in record time. It was in the perfect spot, atop a little ledge that over-looked the lake that gleamed in the setting sun`s rays. The tents were all set up on in a semi-circle around the fire pit Skips had set up that was already in full blaze with the logs and kindle that they had brought along with them. Mordecai and Rigby came back not a moment too soon with their collected fire-wood.

"Now would be a good time to start dinner," Skips commented, wiping the sweat that had formed from being so close to the fire off his brow.

"What`s for dinner? I`m starving," Rigby commented, setting the bundle of twigs he had collected in the near-by woods down on a pile of woods starting to collect by the fire.

"Hot-dogs," Benson said, pulling out a packet of the sausages from the cooler. He paused, looking down at the hot-dogs with a twinge of smile on his lips and a glaze of nostalgia glazed in his eyes. "Heh, do you remember when I bought super-premium hot-dogs for a park barbecue online, and even paid extra for over-night shipping? How can you not? I mean, we were almost eaten by those hot-dogs you found in the fridge."

Rigby gave a small, dry laugh. The infamous incident of when he found demon-possessed hot-dogs in the fridge because he had burned the ones that Benson had bought especially for the annual park-barbecue was just another antidote of the many times he had disobeyed Benson`s orders and paid the price for it.

Benson`s laugh, however, was genuine as he reminded the raccoon of those countless mishaps. "And the time you sent Skips to the moon? And the time you unleashed a demon from that video game Skips specifically put a note on to not play? And the time you ate my grilled-cheese sandwich from Cheezer`s? And the time you-"

"Yeah, yeah_ we know_!" Rigby exclaimed loudly, flailing his arms angrily.

"You know, there were _a lot_ of times you almost got everyone killed and or put countless others in danger," Benson commented, opening the packet of hotdogs for everyone. "But, in the end, at least everything turned out okay."

Was he really remembering the numerous times everyone had been put into peril due to Mordecai and Rigby`s misadventures and misdemeanors with a bit of nostalgia, like they were good memories? He could have been killed by any one of those mishaps! But, here he was, thinking back on all of those times.

Was he actually . . . going to miss Mordecai and Rigby?

His worst employees by far, they were. Those two slackers hardly ever listened and always needed incentive or a good old-fashioned yelling to get their work done. And yet, Benson knew he was going to miss the two of them when he was gone, just like any other of his employees.

And he wished Skips luck in keeping them in line without him when he passed on.

"You all right, Benson?" Mordecai asked, breaking the gumball machine from his thoughts. "You just totally spaced off there."

"Yeah, fine," Benson managed to say. He held up the packet of hot-dogs he held in his hand. "Well, you guys can grab a stick and start cooking."

The employees each took their share of the hot-dogs and started to cook around the fire, sitting on the logs Skips had found and circled around the fire. For some reason, the plain, store-bought, non-premium hot-dogs tasted so much better out in the woods than they did on the grill at the park. Perhaps it was the smoky cooking method, or the fresh-air, but Benson admitted they were some of the best hot-dogs he had ever had. Of course, sharing the meal with his friends with light, laugh-filled conversation made a contribution, too.

When the park-employees finished their hot-dogs, they moved on to their desserts of smores and marshmallows over the fire. It was then, when they were all gobbling down the sticky treats when Pops decided to pull out the guitar that he had brought along with him.

"I do believe the time has come for the singing of folk-tunes!" The lollipop-man exclaimed brightly, strumming the guitar to produce some sweet, gentle chords as he tuned the instrument up.

Surprisingly, everyone, even Mordecai and Rigby, got really into the singing with Pops on the guitar and leading them into the campfire songs. From the lively, up-beat "Camp Town Races", to lesser known folk-tune "Cindy" that Pops really sang alone and the others tried to keep up with getting the lyrics right, to the solemn "Kumbaya", they sang into the night.

After finishing their round of "Amazing Grace", Pops stopped playing and looked up to the sky, commenting, "Oh my, it is getting late! Come now, let`s go to sleep in our tents."

"Hold on there a minute, Pops," Benson said, stopping the lollipop sitting across him from getting up and putting the guitar. "Before we hit the hay, let me play one last song for you guys."

Pops handed the guitar over to the gumball machine, who in turn took it and began to strum, mumbling, "I`m afraid I`m a little rusty."

"Whoa, Benson, I didn`t know you played," Mordecai commented.

"Heh, little known fact about me," Benson told him with a shrug, before finally getting the hand of the instrument and started out with a strangely familiar song. He began to sing with it.

"_Another turning point a fork stuck in the road ,  
>Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go,<br>So make the best of this test and don't ask why,  
>It's not a question but a lesson learned in time ,<em>

_It's something unpredictable but in the end ,  
>It's right I hope you've had the time of your life"<em>

Skips froze.

He knew what this song meant. This song, "The Time of Your Lives" was Benson`s goodbye to everyone.

Through all of the camping-trip, Skips hadn`t really thought about his friend`s cancer. But now, hearing him sing his farewell, it only made the whole thing more real, more tangible. He thought back to the conversation he had in the hall just days before when Benson announced the seemingly-impromptu camping trip.

___I`m dying, Skips. I want to spend what little time I have left with my employees and have one last good time for them to remember me by._

What he was saying was the truth. Benson knew that his time was very near. He had never worked up the courage to tell the whole rest of the park, yet, he was here, giving them all his well-wishes in a song, something to remember him by when he passed on. And now, those words from the conversation felt more real than ever to Skips, just like the situation.

_"So take the photographs and still frames in your mind,  
>Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time,<br>Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial,  
>For what it's worth it was worth all the while,<em>

_It's something unpredictable but in the end ,  
>It's right I hope you've had the time of your life"<em>

Benson ended his song to a round of applause given by his fellow employees. Mordecai, Rigby, and Pops, those in the dark about Benson`s terminal cancer, were whistling and clapping louder, harder than the rest of them. They even gave the gumball machine a standing ovation for his performance. Muscle Man and High Ghost were a bit shaken by the performance emotionally, but they looked strong and were managing smiles for their friend. Skips kept a smile, a thin, faint one. He had loved the song, but emotion was overtaking him. He didn`t cry, but he felt a heavy burden on his chest, like he was going to cry.

"Thank you, guys," Benson said, brightly, handing the guitar back to Pops. He then stretched and yawned. "Wow, am I tired! Let`s head to be, you guys."

They all followed the gumball machine`s orders and they took out what remained of the fire and started heading towards their tents, where they would all collapse onto their sleeping-bags for a night`s rest.

Except for Skips.

He had a tent to share with Benson, who was crawling in. But Skips didn`t follow him.

The gumball machine looked over his shoulder and asked, "You coming, Skips?"

"In a minute," the gorilla told his dying friend. "I need to, uh, go put something away. I`ll be in soon."

"All right then," Benson said, nodding. He then crawled into the tent and zipped up the little door.

But Skips had not intention to go put anything away. He started to walk, without the aid of a flashlight, into the wood. All he really needed right now was to be alone.

Before this whole… disaster with Benson, Skips had been the emotional stable one, the one with the most constant and calm attitude. He was a sensitive guy, no doubt, and had a soft side that could be reached every now and again. He was the one everyone relied on to be the most stable and most secure in times of crisis and emergency. Why was now the time when he was falling apart?

His best friend was dying. And there was nothing in this world, certainly nothing that any doctors had the knowledge of, that could change that and make him well. It was a brutal reality, one that Skips wished very deeply wasn`t what it was. But, just like the doctors, Benson was helpless to this.

And now, he was watching his friend say goodbye to everyone. He was watching his best friend die before his eyes.

He couldn`t help it anymore. The gruff, tough, and collected exterior of his had completely chipped away now and he was crying.

His knees gave out, and he fell to the ground, crying into his hands while leaning his back up against a near-by tree.

This manly, robust gorilla, he cried until the pain inside him felt the slightest bit better. Over the last two weeks, he had tried to keep it bottled up inside him so the secret wouldn`t slip. Crying alone was the only way to release all of that emotion he kept inside him.

"Skips?" A quiet voice called. "Skips, bro, you here?"

The voice belonged to Muscle Man.

Skips turned looked around the tree towards the light coming towards him, identifiably the flashlights Muscle Man and High Five Ghost carried with them.

"There you are," High Five Ghost said with relief. "We`ve been looking for you."

They came around the tree to face Skips, who was afraid that they could see by his eyes that he had been crying. They might have already heard him, but they didn`t say anything.

Muscle Man got to his knees and said, "You okay, man?"

Slowly, Skips managed a little nod.

"That was pretty intense, wasn`t it?" High Five said, floating down to be more in the level with Muscle Man and Skips.

"It was his goodbye," Skips croaked.

It was Muscle Man`s turn to nod slowly. "Yeah. It was. But, he chose a nice way to say it."

This question was burning on Skips mind since the day he had learned about Benson`s cancer: "Why did it have to be him, through?"

All three of them knew they couldn`t answer that question. No one in the world could answer it for them, either.

"I don`t know, man," Muscle Man said quietly, through the thick, tension air. He reached over and put a comforting hand on Skip`s shoulder. "I don`t know. But what I do know, is that we`re going to get through this, together."

"But- what about Pop and Mordecai and Rigby?"

"Like I said, man. We`re going to get through it together."

He died on the Tuesday after the camping trip.


	3. Chapter 3

***Well, this is embarrassing… looks like I just uploaded another mega long fic for Monty Python's Spamalot than Regular Show. I am really, truly sorry. Really, really sorry! Here's the legit chapter 3!***

**I am a lazy little writer. And I greatly apologize for not updating in 9 months. But please understand that school and life get in the way, along with the dreaded curse of writer's block for which there is no cure. And writing a funeral scene isn't an uplifting thing and drains me. But here it is, the third and final segment of ****_Mourning Glory._**** I'd like to thank you all for the wonderful reviews/favs/watches! They mean so much to me and encourage me to write! You've all been great!**

**-LuckyDuck932**

That bleak Tuesday morning, before they opened the park, the employees were having breakfast down in the kitchen. Pops was making muffins for everyone, and he was just pulling them out of the oven when he took notice that the gumball machine wasn't there, though everyone else was present sitting around the kitchen table.

The lollipop man looked to Skips who was sitting at the table and casually skimming over the world news in the newspaper, and said, "Do you mind calling down dear Benson for breakfast, Skips?"

"Sure, Pops," Skips said, nodding and shrugging as if this was no big deal. He set aside his newspaper and got off his chair and went through the living room to the stairs, simply thinking that his friend was sleeping in. He went up the stair and to Benson's bedroom down the hall.

He knocked softly at the door.

"Benson? You in there? Time for breakfast."

No response.

So, he knocked again.

"You still asleep in there?"

He knocked again and again and still there was no response. And that was when he got majorly worried. He did the only thing he felt he could really do- grab the door-knob and burst into the room.

What he found when he was in there was not necessarily alarming. It was Benson in his bed, clasping the covers closer to him, seemingly fast asleep.

At that moment, Skips' heart fell as he feared the worst. When he walked over to the bed where Benson lay, it only confirmed his speculations. He wasn't breathing, and when Skips put his hand to Benson's, they were cold as ice, completely lifeless and limp when he picked them up.

The cancer had won and Benson had died in his sleep.

Skips knew it would happen sometime soon- but, he didn't expect it to be _today_. Although he had been mentally preparing himself for the death of his best friend, he admitted that having it become a reality was something entirely different. Despite the expectation of the day to come, he felt unprepared and totally unequipped to deal with this right now.

And he quickly realized he was. He hadn't told any of the other park employees about Benson's cancer, with the exception of Muscle Man and High Five Ghost. He had no funeral plans. Heck- he didn't even know what to do really in this a situation like this.

But part of him wanted to grieve for the loss of his boss and best-friend right there. However, he knew that wouldn't be right. He could have his moment of mourning later. Right now, he needed to tell the other park employees.

So, he went down to the kitchen where everyone was eating breakfast- the muffins that Pops had so generously made for them. And it hurt Skips when he came and they asked the one question that made him hurt inside.

"Hey, dude- where's Benson?" Mordecai asked.

"Yes, where is our dear Benson?" Pops asked, with that same oblivious sort of innocence he always had.

Skips drew in a breath. "Benson-" he began. "Benson passed away in his sleep last night."

The kitchen grew silent- all of them too stunned to every attempt to speak. They just stared at the gorilla, wide-eyed, their expression all of shock, as if it was taking time to hit them. It was positively unbearable.

What made it worse was that the news hit Pops- sweet, innocent Pops- first. He broke into violent sobs, his head fell to the table's surface.

Mordecai reached over and put his hand onto the lollipop man's shoulder in an attempt to comfort and console him. "Pops-"

"He...he was very sick," Skips told them, as they were all expecting a full expectation of how their boss could go from alive and well on the camping trip to gone not two days after. "He had cancer. It was in his brain and had spread to his lymph nodes and by the time the doctors found it, it was too late and treating it would be ineffective. He- he didn't want me to tell you guys about it."

"_Why?!_" Rigby asked.

"He didn't want you guys to worry," Skips said solemnly. "He really didn't want you guy to flip out about it, and he wanted everything to be normal. Like he wasn't sick at all."

At that moment, as unexpected as this whole thing was, the most unexpected thing was Rigby pushing his chair way from the table, getting off it and sprinting to the back door, not even bothering to grab his coat from off its hook by the door.

"_Rigby! Dude!_" Moredcai futilely called after his best friend. But by then, Rigby had opened and shut the door, letting his legs carry him as fast as they could, off into the park.

"I'll go get him," Mordecai offered, sheepishly getting his chair, remembering to tug on his own coat while he ran out the door to go find his friend.

This day, Skips knew, was going to be a tough one. It had barely begun and he had one co-worker wailing and sobbing his eyes out, another running away from this, and all he could feel was a complete numbness over the death of his friend.

"Rigby! C'mon, dude! I know you're out here!"

Mordecai had stopped running after Rigby, who he had chased for a while, but had been too quick for him and had vanished into the early-morning mist that hung like a thick, foggy blanket over the park. Mordecai was calling out his friend's name, digging and parting through bushes to see if the raccoon had taken shelter there. He also checked the shed as a possibly hideaway, but Rigby was nowhere to be found it there. It seemed like he had to scour the whole park, every bush, every tree, every building, to go find him.

The blue-jay took a lungful of the cold, sharp air as his eyes fell onto the snack-shack, the ideal place for Rigby to hide in. It was protection from the cold weather, and knowing that they hadn't had breakfast yet, provided food incase the raccoon got hungry. Though, Mordecai doubted that Rigby must have felt extremely hungry right now. He knew he didn't.

Upon walking up to the door at the side of the building, it only confirmed Mordecai's speculation about his friend hiding there. The door was unlocked by Rigby using the key hidden in a sneaky little rock key-holder around back in case any of the employees had forgotten to pick up the original key in the park office from their groggy mind combined with lack of coffee.

Mordecai pulled opened the door and sure enough, Rigby was sitting on the cold floor underneath the counter, his arms hugging his curled up legs tight, showing that he was both trying to comfort himself and to keep himself warm.

"Rigby!" Mordecai exclaimed. "Dude, I've been looking all over for you!"

It was then Mordecai noticed the shocked and stunned look on his friend's face, it hadn't moved.

"Dude, what's up with you?" Mordecai asked his friend, crouching down to the raccoon's level and sitting himself down beside him.

"I- I think I _killed_ him," was all Rigby could manage to say.

"You what?" Mordecai didn't understand what Rigby was saying.

"I killed Benson." Rigby told him, this time louder and more sure of it.

"Don't be ridiculous, Rigby," Mordecai said, frowning and crossing his arms. "You didn't do anything that would have killed Benson."

"I did!" Rigby insisted. "Oh my god, I killed Benson! I killed our boss!"

At this point, it seemed like Rigby was going to be inconsolable about this matter just like Pops was as well as obstinate that he had made their boss so sick to seem up and healthy one day and then dead the next, but Moredcai wasn't giving up on his friend was going to sort this out.

"Dude, just calm down, okay?" Mordecai said while Rigby was panicking, on the verge of hysterics. Eventually, though, the raccoon was calm enough to actually explain why he thought he killed Benson.

"Everyday I've worked here, I've done something that killed him! I was always slacking off and stressing him out. Remember how I would always make him yell at us and his face would get all red? Dude, he was always stressed out and Don told me stress was a killer!"

"Yeah, dude, it is," Mordecai agreed, somewhat surprised that Rigby had even paid attention to something his younger brother said about stress. "But Skips told us that Benson had cancer. I'm not a doctor or anything, but I'm pretty sure you can't get cancer just from being stress out all the time."

"You can't?" Rigby looked up to his friend, a glimmer of hope in his eyes that he hadn't been the cause of Benson's passing.

"You can't," Mordecai assured him. "So don't flip out about it, okay?" He gave a heavy, weighted sigh. "Look dude, I know it's tough. I didn't know what was going on either and this whole thing really freaked me out when Skips told us. But the doctors couldn't have done anything about him and we couldn't have done anything either, and we can't do anything now, really. The only thing to do now is just go with it and just remember him fondly. I know it's going to be hard on all of us, but we're going to get through it, okay? Besides, Benson was probably in a lot of pain and wherever he is now, I bet it's a lot better than being here."

Mordecai knew he was just basically reciting what his mom had told him when his grandmother had died. It had been really difficult for his young mind to grasp when it had happened, but he remember it quite clearly on how his mother had guided him through it, and he was thinking back to the experience to help guide his friend through mourning- and himself.

"You're right," Rigby said after a moment of silence.

"Do you want to be alone right now?"Mordecai asked Rigby, knowing that the all just needed some alone time to grasp the fact that Benson was gone.

"I'll be okay," Rigby assured him as Mordecai stood up off the cold floor to head for the snack bar's door. "I'll be back at the house shortly, okay?"

"All right." And with that, Mordecai went out of the snack bar and started taking the trek back to the house on the other side of the park, knowing that they had a long and very sad day ahead of them.

They didn't open the park that day, as there was so much to do with dealing with the death of their boss. Contacting Mr. Maellard about the death of one of the park managers was the first thing they did. Once they had the park and the day dealt with, Skips had to figure out what to do with Benson. He was just about to contact a funeral home, but he instead found a stapled packet of letters on Benson's desk. Handwritten by Benson himself, it explained exactly what to do about everything- how he wanted his funeral, who his money as well and his possessions went to, along with goodbye letters to everyone.

Rigby didn't want to read his- not right now. He was still stunned and shocked, and his system really couldn't process this whole thing. Although the talk with Mordecai had made dealing with Benson's death easier than it would have been with him thing that he had been the reason for the cancer, it was still very hard to grasp the concept. And it didn't help that the whole house seemed to have a depressed, mournful air about it, as it should of course, but it was too much for him to handle. Especially how Pops didn't do anything but cry the whole day. He had locked himself into his room, inconsolable and alone with his mourning.

At one point or another, almost all of the park employees were overtaken by emotion about the loss of Benson, although not the point that Pops was. Except for one, and that one was Skips.

Skips was solemn during that day, of course. How he could not be, with the mood being so heavily draped in the house? But, even still, Mordecai notice that the albino gorilla hadn't cried at all that day. But, because of the day, Mordecai didn't say anything about it and kept his thoughts to himself.

That day seemed to drag on for a silent eternity, that it drove Mordecai out of the house for a walk through the park. A walk through the park turned to a walk through the town. And a walk through the town turned to a stop at the coffee shop in which Margret and Eileen worked.

It was a rare occasion that Mordecai would stop in there without Rigby, and Eileen definitely noticed when the blue-jay stepped inside the shop without his raccoon best friend.

"Mordecai!" Eileen exclaimed from her spot behind the counter where she was scrubbing down the surface of the counter with a dish-rag. She immediately stopped her work to greet her friend, and of course to ask, "Hey, where's Rigby?"

"Rigby's back at the park," Mordecai told her, not feeling up to telling her the whole story quite yet.

At that moment, Margret emerged from the kitchen with a tray of fresh made pastries to put onto the little display. She noticed Mordecai immediately standing in front of the counter and she gave a wide smile. "Hey, Mordecai! How are you?"

"Is Rigby working?" Eileen asked, still persistent of knowing exactly where her crush was.

"Uh, not exactly," Mordecai told her. "We have the day off, actually."

"Oh, well that was nice of Benson," Margret said, blissfully unaware of the true reason why Mordecai and Rigby had off that day. Until, she studied his face. "You look down. What's wrong?"

Mordecai trusted Margret a lot, loved her even, so he wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind with her. And not only that, she and Eileen had a right to know what was going on back at the park. So, he figured he might as well go out and say it.

"Benson had cancer and passed away this morning," he told the two baristas.

Their reaction- much like everyone else who had been told about the situation- was one of shock, disbelief, and denial.

"Oh my god," Margaret breathed, holding her hand to her mouth and shaking her head in doubt, like she refused to believe it. "But, I don't understand. I mean, you would have told me if he had anything, right?"

"I didn't know until today," Mordecai confessed to her. "To me, Benson seemed like he was okay, but Skips told us that he's known for two weeks, ever since Benson passed out and had to be taken to the hospital. . . " His voice trailed off as it hit him.

Benson had been showing signs of the cancer and deteriorating for a long time before his death. The faint incident, how his face was always red, how he seemed so exhausted and tired all the time, and how he complained about his terrible headaches. And that song at the camping trip. That song at the camping trip, "The Time of Your Lives", was somewhat of a goodbye to everyone.

How could he have been such an idiot? How could he have not noticed any of it, when it was all right before his very eyes? Yeah, Benson's trip to the hospital had been a scare that much was for certain, but Mordecai figured that it had done the gumball machine-man good and he was okay. He seemed okay despite the fact that it seemed like he had lost his notoriously short and fiery temper at Mordecai and Rigby, he seemed pretty normal. But the signs of the disease were right up front, and Mordecai hadn't noticed them. He hadn't noticed that his boss was dying right in front of his eyes. How could he have been so stupid about it?

"Oh god," he said to himself. He crumpled over on the coffee shop's counter. "I didn't notice it! I didn't know until today and it was totally right in front of me!"

"What?" Margret asked him, unsure of what he meant.

"Benson, he was tired all the time and he was acting all nice to me and Rigby after he came back from the hospital," Mordecai said quietly. "I should have known he had something wrong with him. And that song he sang on that camp-out, it was like a goodbye to all of us."

"Mordecai, don't blame yourself for not knowing anything about it," Margret told him. "Benson didn't tell you, because maybe he was afraid about it and didn't want you guys to guys to freak about him."

"Yeah, but it would have been a whole lot easier if he had told us when he found out about it." Moredcai held his head in his hands.

"Well, that might be true, but if you knew when he did, you would have been so worried about him all the time. He probably didn't want you to treat him any differently because of his cancer Look, I know how hard this must be for you guys. I lost my grandparents recently, and it hit me pretty hard." She looked both at the clock upon the wall to the tray of donuts sitting on the counter next to them. "It's actually my break right now, so how about you take a coffee and a donut on the house and we can talk, okay?"

"Alright."

And so, Margret made two cups of coffee and put two donuts on a plate for them and set them down at one of the tables and took a seat across from the blue-jay. The two of them talked over their coffee about Benson.

Mordecai admitted, he missed his boss and had been greatly affected by this. Back when Benson was alive and cancer-free, Mordecai thought his boss was annoyingly uptight about everything and hated both Mordecai and Rigby, and it wasn't until now, after the gumball machine's death, that the blue-jay now fully understood his boss. He didn't hate them, he just hated what they did and how they always slacked off on the job. Benson was actually a really decent person and life and work at the park wasn't going to be the same without him. Who else was always going to yell at them to get back to work or threaten to fire them on an hourly basis?

That made Mordecai think about who would now become the park manager? He knew that most likely Mr. Maellard would appoint Skips to take over for Benson. It still would be really weird for the albino gorilla to become their boss, even though in a way he already was. Maybe they'd hire someone new. . . but this was uncertain.

And Pops. . . It was then Mordecai thought of the lollipop man. So child-like, innocent, and naïve, he must have been the most deeply affected by Benson's death than anyone else in the entire park. Like most of them, he had been completely oblivious to Benson's cancer until today. But the thing was, because of his innocence, he probably wasn't sure how to cope with the death of one of his best friends. He had locked himself in his bedroom and cried for the most of the day, wanting to be alone with his grief and wallow in as opposed to opening up to another park employee, or anyone for that matter, and talking about the situation.

Mordecai wanted to change that. He wanted to help out Pops through this tough time. Besides, he knew that getting the lollipop man to talk with him might help him deal with this, too. Talking with Margret at the coffee shop had helped him a great deal, so why not do the same thing with Pops or perhaps Rigby?

These were going to be a hard couple of weeks, but the only way they would get through it was if they were there to support each other through it.

After finishing his talk and coffee with Margret, Mordecai left the coffee-shop for the park. As he began his journey back to the house through the cold October air, he was surprised to find that Pops wasn't in the house but rather sitting on the swing-set, alone with his grief. He wasn't actually swing merrily like he usually did, but rather he was sitting there, motionless, with his gaze on the mulch that covered the ground below the swing.

"Hey, Pops," Mordecai greeted the lollipop man. He walked up to him so he was standing right in front of him. "How are you doing?"

Pops looked up to Mordecai, and it was then the blue-jay saw that the lollipop man's eyes were nearly blood-shot and his face was red and blotchy from all the crying he had done. He made a sort of muffled whimper when he looked up to Mordecai, unable to speak.

It was clear that Mordecai clearly wasn't going to get Pops to talk about everything right now; he was too emotionally distressed right now to say anything. But yet, Mordecai felt the urge to say something to the lollipop.

If actions spoke louder than words, then Mordecai said everything he could to Pops but getting down the lolliman's level and giving him a comforting hug. It seemed like the best- and perhaps the only- thing for Mordecai to do for Pops to express his sympathy, that they were all in the same boat.

The funeral was set for Friday morning. Having the pre-written letters about the funeral plans had helped Skips settle out everything. Benson had said in the letter that he wanted to be buried at a cemetery not a far walk away from the park. The cemetery also happened to the funeral home on the site, and that was where he said he wanted his funeral to take place. Tuesday afternoon, the day Benson died, Skips stopped by there and with the letters about the funeral plans in-hand, he talked with the people there and had everything sorted out. They had been really helpful and sympathetic about everything, and Skips left that day feeling a lot better about the funeral. At least it would be taken care of and that it was all in good-hands.

On that Thursday morning, Benson's obituary had been written in the paper, for those who didn't know. Skips had written it personally. It made him think of how good his friend had been to him, and to everyone else in the park. Benson was a good friend and a hard-worker and Skips made sure he made both those traits about his friend evident in the obituary.

Benson's friends and family had be contacted about the death and the funeral. Just like everyone who had learned about it, they were all in surprise and it pained Skips to be the barrier of such bad-news. It had been bad enough with the park employees, but those who were even closer to Benson was even worse.

Out of everyone in the park, Skips thought that Muscle Man and High-Five Ghost took the sudden and tragic passing of Benson the best. Of course, they had known about the cancer and had been somewhat mentally prepared for. However, no amount of mental preparation could truly prepare them for when it actually happened and they, like Skips, were affected deeply by it. He had seen them cry a couple of time since Tuesday, but surprisingly, he hadn't cried.

Of course, he felt grief and mourning like the rest of them, but for some reason, he couldn't cry. Was it the fact that he had known the longest about the cancer and had been there at the diagnosis? Or perhaps it was because when they all went onto that camping trip last weekend and when Benson had said his goodbyes to everyone through the song, he had been free to go into the forest and express his emotions?

Skips wasn't entirely sure what the reason was behind his inability to cry. What he did know was that he still felt numb about this. He knew Benson was gone, very aware of it for that matter, but he was just so shaken that it had happened. It was like having the floor dropped underneath him, that's what it felt like. Even though it had only been two days since the passing of Benson, he still felt like he still needed to get a firmer grasp on the concept that his best friend was gone and he would be taking over as park-manager.

He was confident about that. If there was thing he was entirely certain about in this situation, he knew he could be the park manager just find. He had already pretty much taken over the duty when Benson had to be absent from work and when he getting sicker and sicker from the cancer. At least there was one thing that he was positive about, and that he really didn't need to worry about.

What he did need to worry about was everyone else under his employment. Particularly Pops, who was still having trouble managing this. It wasn't like the lollipop man was in denial. He knew very well that Benson was gone and that fact had hit him hard. Pops had hidden himself away in his bedroom for the first half of the day Benson died, and when he finally came out of his room, he had gone to the swing-set in the park alone. And today he had done the same thing. Whenever someone else, Mordecai or Skips mostly, tried to extend a hand and comfort him, he backed away. He was completely inconsolable and alone with his mourning. He also didn't realize that everyone else at the park was in the same boat with him, all greatly affected about the loss of Benson.

Hopefully during the funeral, he would learn this and finally take the outreached hands that were there to comfort him through this.

The funeral was held on a bleak and cold early November morning. By now, the trees had lost their leaves and the vibrancy of the autumn colors had been lost. Now the trees that stood on the grounds of the funeral stood stark-naked. It seemed like everything had died that day as the grass on the lawn's color had faded with the snippy chill in the air and the sun refused to show itself under a thick blanket of over-cast, grey clouds, setting the stage for the funeral that was about to take place.

Skips and the park employees filed out of the park van, each one of the dressed respectfully in black suits, all quite and solemn as they walked across the parking lot, up to the path that lead to a massive and haunting former Victorian home that had been transformed into the funeral home.

The car ride over to the funeral home had been just as quiet and somber as the walk up the path was. No one talked, no one bothered to touch the radio and put on some tunes. Today was too grave for music.

They all shuffled into the house and were greeted by a man who lead them to the place where they had set up the funeral.

The room was smaller than a lot of the ones they had seen as they passed when they guided through the hall of the funeral home, but then again, Benson's funeral wasn't an extremely big one. It was a modest, tasteful event that had those dreariest to him were to attend, as he had requested in his letters. The room may have seemed even smaller than it actually was because it was filled with red cushioned chair to accommodate for the guest. What they had done about flowers wasn't extremely lavish, but they had surprisingly received some bouquet and arrangement sent by Benson's friends and family for the event. Up at the front of the room, Benson's casket lay, unopened. Skips didn't really want it to be open for the sake of Pops, who probably would have burst into tears at seeing his friend lay there, in a sleep that he would never wake up from. Next to the casket stood the podium in which those who wanted to say their eulogy and kind words about their friend could.

Gradually, people started to show up, friends and family of Benson, most of which the park employees didn't know very well or had just met in person for the very first time. Even if they had only spoke on the phone, and only about bad-news, the people close to Benson all had a common ground and they were all shaken on that morning. Strangers were comforting each other, placing hands on shoulders, speaking in low, hushed voices and hugging each other knowing that this was going to be a difficult day.

At about ten o'clock, everyone filed into their seats and the funeral began.

In the letters that had been written before his death Benson specified what he stories from his life he wanted told and what verses he wanted quoted during the ceremony, but for the most part, the ceremony was going to be eulogies made by people who knew Benson. Of course, the entire park employee had decided to write one for their boss but surprisingly it was Mordecai who decided to say his piece first.

He got up to the podium and stood, a bit awkwardly as though this was hard for him. He began to speak.

"My name is Mordecai and I was a working as Benson's employee. Benson was a really cool dude. I thought that since he hired me and Rigby a couple years back. Alright, so Rigby and I weren't the greatest employees ever, but I mean, he was just looking out for us. He didn't want to get to get hurt. And that was really awesome. It wasn't until now that I really appreciated what he did for us." The blue jay looked to the casket and somberly said, "We'll miss you, Benson. The park isn't going to be the same without you."

Rigby went next. Then Muscle Man. Then High-Five Ghost. Pops was crying too hard to really speak. And finally, Skips.

He went up to the podium just as the others had done, and looked out to the grief-filled, teary-eyed, sniffling crowd, a little overwhelmed. He then looked back to the casket where Benson lay and then back to front. He adjusted the microphone a bit to his height and then began to speak.

"Benson was my best friend," Skips began. He was uncertain about where he was going with his eulogy, but he felt like he should just let all of his feelings towards the gumball machine. "I worked with him at the park for years. We had more than a co-worker relationship. We were friends. I remember the day we met when he got hired as the new park-manager. He was a replacement and I kind of had to teach him the ropes about running the park. But over that, we became the best of friends. We'd been through good and bad." He paused, biting his lip. "But nothing was so bad as when he learned he had cancer and that there was nothing the doctors could do to help. He didn't want anyone to know, so it was our secret. The weeks passed and there has been nothing as tough as watching your best friend slowly _die_ before your eyes. It hurts you. At first, I was unsure why he was so secretive with the cancer, but now I think I realize it was because he wanted to protect the ones he loved from the pain of having to see him die. He didn't want the last memories of him to us to be spoiled with the fear of his impending death. He must've thought he was doing everyone a favor." Skips paused.

He waited a silent second before he continued, "Not all of you may be exactly happy about that. But I think he knew he was doing good for us."

Skips looked out to the pews where Mordecai and Rigby and the rest of the park employees sat.

"Benson did a lot of good for everyone one of us," he then said, directly to where his co-workers sat. "Sadly, I don't think we all realized all it when he was here. But I know one thing- Benson is going to be missed by all of us. Especially by me."

Skips finished his speech and went down to the pew and sat next to Mordecai, who put a hand on his co-worker's shoulder.

Giving a eulogy proved to be both an emotionally and physically exhausting thing and Skips felt like he didn't have much energy to face the rest of the funeral. But he stayed to say his final goodbyes to his friend Benson when they buried him in the funeral home's grounds- right in a lovely little spot on the hill that overlooked a pond and a weeping willow tree. Benson had liked nature, so it seemed fitting that his final resting place would be over-looking such a beautiful, natural sight.

Following the funeral, there was a quiet and modest brunch over at the park's house. Nothing too fancy, but Skip somewhat felt obliged to doing something food-wise for the funeral attendees, when the news of Benson's death was sudden.

Although it was hard to believe, but soon the day of Benson's funeral slipped away and melted into a week passing. And that week soon turned into a month.

That month was kinda hard on them- and not just from a grieving stand-point. November meant preparing the park for winter and without a park manager around to guide them into their jobs, it was definitely a change. In the end, it was Skips who took over for Benson. He had been doing his work while Benson was sick and with him now gone, he figured that he just might as well do the work. He knew he should be working at trying to find a new, permanent park manager to take over the position, but it was just too soon to start thinking of hiring someone new into their friend's old position.

Everyone was taking it better than before the funeral. A funeral was supposed to be your fondest memories and final goodbyes to a person and that's just what Benson's funeral had been. Not that they had all-especially Pops- come to terms completely with it. It was still a hard, unexpected blow to all of the park employees, but it was healing and they were starting to get back to normal. Even now Pops, who had been utterly devastated with the loss of his friend, started to get back to his usual perky self. But it wasn't like they ever forgot Benson or what it was like with him around.

Soon, it was Christmastime. Snow came, holiday music blared on the radio, and the coffee shop aroma was tinged with cinnamon as they served-up holiday-oriented drinks.

Just before Christmas, Skips was having all the park employees help him set up the Christmas tree in the house's living room. Before a warm fire, Moredcai and Rigby sat, digging through boxes to find ornaments. Muscle Man and High-five were together working to unravel a strand of tangled, colored lights. Pops emerged from the kitchen, grinning as he carried mugs of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows.

"Remember how crazy last Christmas was?" Mordecai asked Rigby as he unwrapped a golden ball from its packaging from the box. "Dude, we actually had to _save_ Christmas."

"Let's hope Christmas is nothing like that this year," Skips said, coming over to where the raccoon and the blue jay sat.

The two smirked until Rigby pulled something from the boxes- something red, something knitted, and something . . . ugly.

"Look! Dude, its Benson's ugly sweater last year!" Rigby exclaimed. He held it out and sure enough, it was the sweater that Benson had worn last year during the Christmas party. The red one with the dorky little reindeer.

"Remember how that girl he was trying to hit on said it should have won Ugliest Sweater?" High-Five chimed in from where he floated, his only hand snaked by the long strands of Christmas lights while Muscle Man tried desperately to detangle them from their knotty mess.

"Sure do!" Rigby said, laughing.

"He'd be so mad right now, with us bringing it up again," Mordecai said. "I kinda miss that."

The room was silent again, as this happy moment unexpectedly turned a little somber.

"Hand me the sweater, Rigby," Skips said, quietly.

Rigby did.

Skips went over to a spot on the wall near the tree where a little nail in the wall was to hold a picture had had since been taken down. He managed to hang the sweater on the nail so that some-way Benson was present in the room. That, even though their friend had passed, he was still in the room, laughing with them.

Sometimes, even though he was gone, it felt like he never really left them.


End file.
